


ASP--Gay Romance AU

by Skittles2006



Category: A Separate Peace - John Knowles
Genre: M/M, My First Fanfic, some homophobic slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24290581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skittles2006/pseuds/Skittles2006
Summary: A Separate Peace, but Gene and Finny are gay [for each other]
Relationships: Gene Forrester & Elwin "Leper" Lepellier, Gene Forrester & Phineas "Finny", Gene Forrester/Phineas "Finny"
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this is an option for a project for English class, and I realized that I was basically writing fanfiction, so I decided to post it on AO3 and just to have it out there! Hope you enjoy :)

I returned to Devon school not long ago, and it seemed odd. Everything was the same—the buildings, the stairs, the dorms. The marble stairs were the same ones I’d walked up and down a hundred times, but they seemed old. Of course, I was older than when I was a student here 15 years ago, but an uneasy feeling crept down my spine.

I sighed and walked over to the tree. It took me a moment to find it, as there were more trees surrounding it. When I found it, it seemed weary, old, and dry, not at all like the tree I remembered from my youth. 

I spun the ring on my left ring finger. It was a wedding ring, I suppose, but I wasn’t married. Not legally, anyway. That was impossible for men like me. 

…

The tree was tremendous, an irate, steely black steeple beside the river. I’d never climb it, the very idea never came into my mind. Only Phineas could think of such a crazy idea. He asked if anyone wanted to go first, but of course we did not reply. We just looked quietly back at him, and so he began taking off his clothes, stripping down to his underpants.

He was incredibly athletic, but you couldn’t tell from looking at him. His weight flowed from his legs to torso around shoulders to arms and full strong neck in an uninterrupted, unemphatic unity of strength. As he scaled the tree, I watched the muscles in his back contract and move, like a panther’s. 

He reached the top, smiling like a crazy man. “Is this the branch they jump from, the older boys?” he shouted. None of the four of us on the ground knew, and so he turned and faced the water. “Well, consider this my contribution to the war effort!” he yelled, just before leaping out of the tree and into the water. 

He popped out of the river, grinning. “Who’s next?”

I was. I was reluctant to remove my clothes, but I did and started to climb the tree. I wasn’t nearly as sure-footed as Phineas, but I finally reached the limb he had jumped from. It was slenderer than it looked from the ground and much higher. It was impossible to walk out on it far enough to be well over the river, so I’d have to spring outward. 

“Well, go on then, stop showing off!” Phineas called from the bank. I blushed a little, and, with the sensation that I was throwing my life away, I jumped into space. Some tips of branches snapped past me and then I crashed into the water. My legs hit the soft mud of the bottom, and immediately I was on the surface being congratulated. I felt fine.

“Well done, I think that was better than Phineas’ jump!” Elwin, or Leper as we all called him, laughed. Phineas grinned before challenging Leper to jump. He turned pale, and he and the other two boys stammered excuses about not being able to jump before running off to the school. 

“It’s you, pal,” Phineas said to me at last, “just you and me.” The two of us started back towards the school, following the others. I went along beside him across the enormous playing fields toward the gym. Underfoot the healthy green turf was brushed with dew, and ahead of us we could see a faint green haze hanging above the grass, shot through with the twilight sun. Phineas stopped talking for once, so that now I could hear cricket noises and bird cries of dusk, a gymnasium truck gunning along an empty athletic road a quarter of a mile away, a burst of faint, isolated laughter carried to us from the back door of the gym, and then over all, cool and matriarchal, the six o’clock bell from the Academy Building cupola, the calmest, most carrying bell toll in the world, civilized, calm, invincible, and final.

I would have been content to stay in that moment with him forever. 

But that wasn’t an option. We were almost late for dinner. “We should hurry,” I said absentmindedly. I was too busy trying to remember this moment to notice his right foot flash in front of me, sending me face-first into the grass. I stood, preparing a counterattack from behind, but he heard me and sidestepped. He grabbed my leg and we wrestled on the turf for a moment.

The moment broke by Leper and Chet and Bobby telling us to hurry, so we got up and started walking faster towards the school. On impulse, I threw my hip against his, catching him by surprise, and he was instantly down. I suppose that this was why he liked me so much, why he chose me as his best friend. When I jumped on top of him, my knees on his chest, our faces were nearly touching. I didn't understand until later, but I had wanted to close the gap between us. I didn't, though. I pulled away instead.

We wrestled a little bit more, until we were sure that we were late for dinner, at which point we ran to the dormitories, and to our shared room. Then lights began to snap out all over the school. We undressed, and I put on some pajamas, but Phineas didn’t because he’d heard that they were unmilitary. 

There was a silence, in which I suppose we should have been praying, and then that summer school day came to an end.


	2. Chapter 2

Our absence from dinner had been noticed. The following morning Mr. Prud’homme stopped at our door. He was broad-shouldered, grave, and he wore a gray business suit. He did not have the careless, almost British look of most of the Devon Masters, because he was a substitute for the summer. He enforced such rules as he knew; missing dinner was one of them.

Phineas immediately began explaining. He talked about the afternoon before, but he spoke in great detail about every event. He rambled on, his voice soaring and plunging in its vibrant sound box, his eyes now and then widening to fire a flash of green across the room. Standing in the shadows, with the bright window behind him, he blazed with sunburned health.

I could have watched him all day. 

Finally, he stopped talking. Mr. Prud’homme released his breath with a sort of amazed laugh, stared at Phineas for a while, and that was all there was to it. Most of the teachers treated us that way, that summer. I think it was because we reminded them of what peace felt like, a distraction from the war. 

Once Mr. Prud’homme left, Phineas began to dress. He was the essence of this careless peace, but even so, I was shocked when he pulled out a pink shirt from the dresser. 

“What is that!” I protested. 

“It’s going to be my emblem. Did you ever see stuff like this, and a color like this? It doesn’t even button all the way down. You have to pull it over your head, like this.” 

“Emblem for what?”

“Well, I read in the paper that we bombed Central Europe for the first time the other day. We’ve got to do something to celebrate. We haven’t got a flag, we can’t float Old Glory proudly out the window. So I’m going to wear this, as an emblem.”

“It’s pink! It makes you look like a fairy!” I exclaimed. (This was something else I wouldn’t understand until I was older. I said that I thought being feminine was something bad, when in fact I was just jealous. Jealous that Phineas had the confidence to do something outside of the box.)

“I wonder what would happen if I looked like a fairy to everyone.” he said absentmindedly. 

“You’re nuts.”

“Well, in case suitors begin clamoring at the door, you can tell them I’m wearing this as an emblem.” I blushed heavily when he said ‘suitors’, but I didn’t respond. 

And he did wear it. One teacher had asked him about it, so of course he explained, in full earnest, it’s symbolism and meaning. It was hypnotism. I was beginning to see that Phineas could get away with anything. I couldn’t help envying him that a little, which was perfectly normal. There was no harm in envying even your best friend a little.

In the afternoon Mr. Patch-Withers, who was substitute Headmaster for the summer, offered the traditional term tea to the Upper Middle class. Phineas wore the school tie as a belt, and I was almost eager to see him get into trouble for something so disrespectful. 

But he didn’t. He came up with reasons and symbolism on the spot, and he had gotten away with everything. I was disappointed, but I didn’t know why. I laughed with him, because he was so unique, able to get away with anything at all because that’s just the type of person he was. It was quite a compliment to me, as a matter of fact, to have such a person choose me for his best friend.

That night, after we’d left the party, Phineas decided that we should jump out of the tree again. And so we went. We climbed the tree together, me slightly ahead. When we got to the top, I was out slightly farther than him. I turned to say something to him, and as I did, I began to lose my balance. There was a moment of total, impersonal panic, and then Finny’s hand shot out and grabbed my arm, and with my balance restored, the panic immediately disappeared. He pulled me closer to the tree, which I grabbed for balance, and moved towards me a little bit. Suddenly, he pulled back and walked out to the limb. 

“Excellent idea, Gene. Go and fall out of the tree! What’d you do a silly thing like that for!” he laughed, just before turning and jumping into the water. I followed, and he cheered from the bank as I sprang into the open space. He helped me out of the river, a slightly puzzled look on his face. “You aren’t afraid to jump out of the tree, are you?” 

“Afraid! Of course not.” I lied, my face flushing when he grabbed my arm. It must have been because I was tired, I told myself. 

“Good.” His eyes brightened the way they always did when he came up with an idea. “We’ll form a suicide society, and the membership requirement is one jump out of this tree!” 

“A suicide society,” I said stiffly. “The Suicide Society of the Summer Session.”

“Good! The Super Suicide Society of the Summer Session! How’s that?”

“That’s fine, that’s okay.”

It wasn’t until we were back in the dorms, and I was safely in bed, that the full reality of what had happened on that day shook me. If Phineas hadn’t been there, I could have fallen, gotten killed, broken my back! If he hadn’t been there...I decided to stop thinking about what could have happened, and instead focused on the feeling I had gotten when he touched me. 


	3. Chapter 3

Phineas had practically saved my life. He had also practically lost it for me, but I didn’t focus on that. The Super Suicide Society of the Summer Session was a success from the start. Phineas talked about it as though it were an established club at the school, and soon there were many members. We initiated them each night, but he and I had to open every meeting by jumping ourselves because we were the Charter Members. 

I hated it. I never got injured from jumping. At every meeting the limb seemed higher, thinner, the deeper water harder to reach. Every time, when I got myself into position to jump, I felt a flash of disbelief that I was doing anything so perilous. But I always jumped. Otherwise I would have lost face with Phineas, and that would have been unthinkable. What if he no longer wanted to be my friend? I’d lose the best friend I’d ever had, just because I couldn’t jump out of a damned tree. (Being part of the club was an excuse to spend time with him, is what I realized years later. I didn’t want him to spend a lot of time with other boys, without me.)

One day, when badminton entered the school’s summer athletic program, Phineas got annoyed. “What are they trying to do, destroy us?” he yelled. The seniors had all left, and so just a group of us had all of the fields to ourselves. Phineas went towards the tower housing the sports equipment and emerged with a medicine ball. “All you really need is a round ball. I think it’s about time we started to get a little exercise around here, don’t you?” he said, eyes glinting with mischief. “We can always start with this ball.”

And so blitzball was born. As far as I could tell at the beginning, there were no rules. Or rather, the rules were made up on the spot. By Phineas, of course. As we played, he seemed to change them. Somehow, the rules all seemed to be in my favor.

Blitzball was the surprise of the summer. Everybody played it; but nobody can play it as it was played by Phineas. He had unconsciously invented a game which brought his own athletic gifts to their highest pitch. I told myself that of course he was good at it, he had  _ invented _ it, but I was still annoyed. 

It was just a game. It was good that Phineas could shine at it. He could also shine at many other things, with people for instance, the others in our dormitory, the faculty; in fact, if you stopped to think about it, Phineas could shine with everyone, he attracted everyone he met. I was glad of that too. Naturally. He was my roommate and my best friend.

But just because he shone with other people, didn’t mean I wanted him to. I wanted him to myself. (That’s something else I wouldn’t understand until I was older. I had assumed, of course, that I just didn’t want other people to be his friend. That wasn’t quite the case.)

The summer continued on. On one hot day, Phineas and I were fooling around in the pool, near a bunch of plaques with record-holders. Phineas saw that the 100 meter record hadn’t been broken in a long time, and decided to try and break it. I found a timer in the office, and watched my friend climb onto the starting block. The muscles in his body rippled with strength, the sun glinting off the water droplets on his back.

I started him, and he swam the course with such speed and technique you’d think he was a trained swimmer. His hand touched the end, and he looked up at me with a composed, interested expression. “Well, how did I do?” I looked at the watch; he had broken the record by .7 second.

“The worst thing is there weren’t any witnesses. And I’m no official timekeeper. I don’t think it will count.” I said. 

“Well of course it won’t count.”

“You can try it again and break it again. Tomorrow. We’ll get the coach in here, and all the official timekeepers.”

“I’m not going to do it again,” he said. “I just wanted to see if I could do it. Now I know. But I don’t want to do it in public.”

I stopped and looked at him up and down. He didn’t look directly back at me. “You’re too good to be true,'' I said after a while. He half-smiled at the ground, and we started back to the dormitory. Was he trying to impress me or something by not telling anyone? Because he didn’t need to. I was already impressed by everything that he was. 

“Swimming in pools is screwy anyway,” he said after a long, unusual silence as we walked toward the dormitory. “The only real swimming is in the ocean.” Then, without a change in his tone, he added, “Let’s go to the beach.”

The beach was hours away by bicycle, forbidden, completely out of all bounds. Going there risked expulsion, and it also involved the kind of long, labored bicycle ride I hated. But I didn’t want him to see me as a coward, and I didn’t want him to ask someone else to go with him, so I agreed. 

We got our bikes and slipped away from Devon along a back road. As I pumped, panting, up steep hills he glided along beside me, joking steadily. He analyzed my character, and he insisted on knowing what I disliked most about him.  _ Nothing, you’re absolutely perfect, _ is what I wanted to say. But instead I told him he was too conventional. 

We reached the beach late in the afternoon, and played in the water for hours. I made my way up on the beach and lay down. Phineas came, ceremoniously took my pulse, and then went back into the ocean. I tried to ignore the feeling that bubbled up in me when he touched me, and instead I brushed away the top, hot layer of sand and layed down. He was everywhere, he enjoyed himself hugely, he laughed out loud at passing seagulls. 

And he did everything he could think of for me. We had dinner, walked on the Boardwalk, and each had one beer by showing the bartender our forged draft cards. On the Boardwalk, I realized everyone was staring at him, so I took a look myself to see why. For some reason, I didn’t want to look away. His skin radiated a reddish copper glow of tan, his brown hair had been a little bleached by the sun, and I noticed that the tan made his eyes shine with a cool blue-green fire.

He looked striking. 

After our drink, we found a good spot among some sand dunes at the lonely end of the beach, and there we settled down to sleep for the night. It was silent, but Phineas eventually began his usual nighttime monologue. But tonight’s final words were different than usual. 

“I hope you’re having a pretty good time here. I know I kind of dragged you away at the point of a gun, but after all you can’t come to the shore with just anybody and you can’t come by yourself, and at this teen-age period in life the proper person is your best pal.” He hesitated and then added, “which is what you are,” and there was silence on his dune.

It was a courageous thing to say, and it sent chills through my whole body. Exposing a sincere emotion nakedly like that at the Devon School was the next thing to suicide. I should have told him then that he was my best friend also and rounded off what he had said. I started to; I nearly did. But something held me back. The words “best pal” didn’t seem to cover how I felt towards him. 

That was when I realized I was in love with Phineas. 

I nearly sat up choking, but I just inhaled sharply. Phineas reached out to grab my hand—the contact calmed me down, but I pulled away from him and sat up. 

“Gene? Are you okay?” he asked me. I nearly started crying. 

“I’m...I’m fine.” I lied, trying for a weak smile before lying back down on the sand. Phineas moved closer to me. 

“Okay. Good night.” 

And we fell asleep on the sand under the stars, barely inches between us.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick trigger warning: I do use the word f*g a few times, but it is censored in each instance. This chapter is also the one where Gene shakes the limb, so if you didn't like that part of the book just keep this in mind.

The next morning I saw dawn for the first time. Phineas was still asleep, and so I watched the sunrise alone with my thoughts. How could I be in love with Phineas? He was a _boy_ . Of course I was a—a _f*g_. 

As soon as the word came to mind, I scolded myself. It’s probably just a phase. I’m just overreacting—after all, what do I know about being in love? Maybe if I just didn’t think about it, it’ll go away. I made a quiet promise to myself that I wouldn’t let myself be gay. 

Phineas woke up talking. “That was one of the best night’s sleep I ever had. I like the way this beach looks now. Shall we have a morning swim?”

“Are you crazy? It’s too late for that.”

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, and before I could say anything he was trotting down the beach, shedding clothes as he went, and into the ocean. He came back after a while full of an attractive chilly glow and energy. I didn’t have anything to say, so we set off on the long ride back without any breakfast, and got to Devon just in time for a test I had. 

I flunked it; I knew I was going to as soon as I looked at the test problems and realized that Phineas was the only thing on my mind. It was the first test I had ever flunked. But my roommate didn’t give me any time to worry about that. Right after lunch there was a game of blitzball which took most of the afternoon, and right after dinner there was the meeting of the Super Suicide Society of the Summer Session.

That night in our room, I tried to catch up on what I’d missed that day.

“You work too hard. What do you need to know all these subjects for?” Phineas said. 

“I need to pass them to graduate,” I responded, not looking up from my textbook. 

“Don’t give me that line. Nobody at Devon has ever been surer of graduating than you are. You aren’t working for that. You want to be head of the class, valedictorian, so you can make a speech on Graduation Day—in Latin or something boring like that probably—and be the boy wonder of the school. I know you.” 

_The boy wonder of the school_. I blushed involuntarily. Instead of letting it show, I cleared my throat a little and tried to meet his eyes. “Don’t be stupid. I wouldn’t waste my time on anything like that.”

“You never waste your time. That’s why I have to do it for you.”

“Anyway, somebody’s got to be head of the class.” I said, deciding that it was a good goal to have. I glared at the textbook. 

“Relax,” he said. “Your brain’ll explode if you keep this up.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Phineas.” I told him. My words came out kind of harsh, but I was secretly touched that he cared, even if he was joking. 

“I’m not worried.” Oh. Nevermind. 

“You wouldn’t...You wouldn’t _mind_ if I were valedictorian, would you?” I asked carefully. He gave me a dry half-smile. 

“I’d kill myself out of jealous envy.” I knew he was joking, but it scared me. F*g or not, I cared about Phineas. After that, I allowed myself to slip a little in school. Of course, I kept up, keeping my grades in the mid to high A’s, but valedictorian wasn’t my goal anymore. I wanted it, yeah, but the idea of Phineas hurting himself scared me out of achieving it. 

As the summer lazed on, I had more and more trouble ignoring my homosexuality. I tried to think of Phineas strictly as a friend, but sometimes I discovered myself thoughtlessly slipping back into affection for him again. 

August had arrived with a deepening of all the summertime splendors of Devon School. Exams were announced, and I wasn’t as ready for them as I wanted to be. The Super Suicide Society of the Summer Session continued to meet every night, and I continued to attend because I didn’t want Phineas to think I was avoiding him. 

A French examination was announced for one Friday late in August. Phineas and I studied for it in the library Thursday afternoon; I went over vocabulary lists, he wrote silly messages and passed them to me. I didn’t get nearly as much work done as I wanted. After supper I tried again in our dormitory, but Phineas came in a few minutes later. 

“Arise,” he began airily, “Senior Overseer Charter Member! Elwin ‘Leper’ Lepellier has announced his intention to make the leap this very night, to qualify, to save his face at last.” 

I didn’t believe him for a second. There was no way that Leper would ever voluntarily jump from the tree, so I continued studying as I sarcastically responded, “If he jumps out of that tree I’m Mahatma Gandhi.”

Phineas laughed. “All right. Come on, let’s go. We’ve got to be there. You never know, maybe he will do it this time.” 

“I have to study!” I suddenly yelled. I wanted to be upset with him, I really did. But I couldn’t, and so I decided to blame my frustrations on my grade. Phineas seemed surprised. 

“You want to study?” he asked calmly, with an evenly interested expression. 

“Never mind, forget it. I know, I joined the club, I’m going. What else can I do?”

“Don’t go.” He said it very simply and casually. He shrugged, “Don’t go. What the hell, it’s only a game.” I instantly felt guilty. 

“Nevermind my studying. Let’s go.” I amended. He let it go at that, and we followed our gigantic shadows across the campus to the tree. We reached the others loitering around the base of the tree, and Phineas began exuberantly to throw off his clothes to jump from the tree and begin the club’s meeting. 

“Let’s go, you and me. We’ll go together, a double jump! Neat, eh?” he said, turning to me. I felt so bad about the past few months, I would have agreed to anything. We climbed the tree together, and when we got to the top Phineas ventured a little way along the limb high over the bank, holding a thin nearby branch for support. 

Seeing him out there, his gorgeous figure illuminated by the fading light of day, made me want to cry. He was so sure of himself, so happy and confident. More than anything, I wanted to be like him. But before I could even fully identify the self-conscious feelings, anger rose in my throat. How _dare_ he act like such a saint, when he must have had flaws! Why did he have to go around declaring who he was to everybody, when I had to battle demons every night!

The rage blinded me—I didn’t even think about what I was doing. Holding firmly to the trunk, I took a step toward him, and then my knees bent and I jounced the limb. Finny, his balance gone, turned to me in a moment of clear, unfiltered panic. He started to reach out to me, his mouth opened a little as though he were about to say something, and then he tumbled sideways, broke through the little branches below and hit the bank with a sickening, unnatural thud. 

It was the first clumsy action I’d ever seen him make, and it broke my heart to know that it was my fault. With unthinking sureness I moved out on the limb and jumped into the river, every trace of my anger forgotten in favor of the regret that immediately plagued me. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same trigger warnings as Chapter 4: I use the word f*g once, and it's censored. Um, Finny and Gene get into a fight, there's some homophobia. That's all, it's even shorter than the other ones, but enjoy :)

None of us were allowed near the infirmary during the next few days, but I heard all the rumors that came out of it. Eventually a fact emerged; one of his legs had been “shattered.” I couldn’t figure out exactly what this word meant, whether it meant broken in one or several places, cleanly or badly, and I didn’t ask.

I think that everyone had wanted to discuss the subject with me, but nobody had. I was clearly distraught, racked with guilt over what I had done. If anyone had been suspicious of me, I might have developed some strength to defend myself. But there was nothing. No one suspected. Phineas must still be too sick, or too noble, to tell them. 

I spent as much time as I could alone in our room, trying to empty my mind of every thought, to forget where I was, even who I was—Phineas’ roommate, a student at Devon, and most importantly, my newly discovered sexuality. I never mentioned it to anyone. Being gay was considered a mental illness, and I wanted to go through life without being labelled like that. 

I missed my best friend. One evening when I was dressing for dinner and an idea occurred to me, the first with any energy behind it since Phineas fell from the tree. I decided to put on his clothes. We wore the same size, and although he always criticized mine he used to wear them frequently, quickly forgetting what belonged to him and what to me. I never forgot, and that evening I put on his cordovan shoes, his pants, and I looked for and finally found his pink shirt, neatly laundered in a drawer. 

Its high, somewhat stiff collar against my neck, the wide cuffs touching my wrists, the rich material against my skin excited a sense of strangeness and distinction made me look like a fairy—I flinched at the memory of when I called him that. When I looked in the mirror, though, I was Phineas, Phineas to life. I even had his humorous expression in my face, his sharp, optimistic awareness. I had no idea why this gave me such intense relief, but it seemed, standing there in Phineas’ triumphant shirt, that I would never stumble through the confusions of my own character again. If he could be so confident in himself, then maybe I could be too. 

Not yet, of course. But someday. 

I didn’t go down to dinner, instead marvelling in the sense of transformation I’d felt. The feeling stayed with me, even after I’d gone to bed in my own clothes. It didn’t disappear until I woke up the next morning, and realized that I could never be as confident as he. Sooner or later I’d be confronted with myself, and what I had done to Phineas.

It ended up being  _ sooner _ —that morning, Dr. Stanpole called me over to tell me that Phineas was better. “He could stand a visitor or two now, after these very nasty few days.” he explained. 

“You don’t think I’ll upset him or anything?” I asked, surprised. 

“You? No, why? I don’t want any of these teachers flapping around him. But a pal or two, it’ll do him good.” 

“But how does he—how is he feeling? I mean, is he cheerful at all, or—”

“Oh, you know Phineas. It was a messy break, but he’ll be walking again. Sports are finished for him, after an accident like that. Of course.”

I wanted to protest, but I knew there was no point. If the doctor said sports were over, they must have been. I started crying, the stark reality of what I had done coming to light.

“Now that’s no good. You’ve got to be cheerful and hopeful. He needs that from you. He wanted especially to see you. You were the one person he asked for.” In spite of my guilt, this stopped my tears. Would he still want to be my friend, even after I’d ruined his life?

We walked to the infirmary, with it’s red brick exterior and cheerful interior. Dr. Stanpole showed me which room was his, and I pushed it open. “Come on in,” I heard him say, so I went to a chair beside his bed. 

“Phineas—” I began. He cut me off. 

“You’re going to call me Finny now. Not Phineas. I don’t like the way you say it.”

“Finny, then,” I continued. He nodded, smiling at his nickname. “What happened there at the tree? How did you fall, how could you fall off like that?”

“I just fell. I don’t know how it happened, it was like the tree shook me out itself. I had a feeling, when I saw you standing there, but you can’t say anything for sure from just feelings. I’m sorry about that feeling I had.” he shrugged. I didn’t say anything to his sincere apology for suspecting the truth. 

If Phineas had been sitting here in this pool of guilt, how would he have felt, what would he have done? He would have told me the truth. But oh, what was the truth! Was it that I jostled the limb? Was it that I didn’t think, that I did it out of rage? Was it that I was a f*g and I was in love with him! 

No, I couldn’t tell him the truth. I opened my mouth to confess some collection of lies, but I never got the chance, for at that moment Dr. Stanpole came in, and then a nurse, and I was sent away. The next day the doctor decided that Finny was not yet well enough to see visitors, not even me, and soon after he was taken in an ambulance to his home outside Boston.

The Summer Session closed, officially came to an end. But to me it seemed irresolutely suspended, halted strangely before its time. I went home for a month’s vacation, and at the end of September I started back towards Devon. 

When I arrived at South Station, I got a taxi, but instead of saying “North Station” to the driver, I heard myself give the address of Finny’s house. We found it fairly easily, and a cleaning woman answered the door and when I came into the room where he was sitting, he looked very pleased and not at all surprised. Nothing surprised Finny. 

We traded stories for a while, just like any pals would. “I was thinking about you most of the trip up,” I finally told him, straightening my back against the chair I was sitting in. “I was thinking about you . . . and the accident.” 

“There’s loyalty for you. To think about me when you were on a vacation.”

“I was thinking about it . . . about you because—I was thinking about you and the accident because I caused it.”

Finny looked steadily at me, his face very handsome and expressionless. “What do you mean, you caused it?” his voice was as steady as his eyes.

My own voice sounded quiet and foreign. “I jounced the limb. I caused it.” One more sentence. “I deliberately jounced the limb so you would fall off.”

He looked older than I had ever seen him. “Of course you didn’t.”

“Yes I did. I did!” I insisted, feeling my voice about to break. 

“Of course you didn’t do it!”

“Of course I did!”

“Well, let’s say you did it then! What’d you do it for!”

“Because I’m a homo and I’m in love with you! Now you know!” I cried. “ _ Now you know. _ ” He froze. 

“I don’t know anything. Go away. I’m tired and you make me sick. Go away.” He held his forehead wearily, an unlikely way.

It struck me then that I was injuring him again, but his words made me want to break down in sobs. I didn’t. Instead, I turned and I left his house and continued on my journey to Devon, only allowing the tears to fall when I was safe and alone in my dormitory. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so...this is a really short and honestly pretty crappy chapter. The main parts of the canon chapter were the fight with Quackenbush and the conversation with Mr. Ludsbury but they didn't really contribute to the storyline so they each have like two paragraphs.

Peace had deserted Devon. Although not in the look of the campus and village; they retained much of their dreaming summer calm. Fall had barely touched the full splendor of the trees, and during the height of the day the sun briefly regained its summertime power. In the air there was only an edge of coolness to imply the coming winter. 

We had been an idiosyncratic, leaderless band in the summer, undirected except by the eccentric notions of Finny. Now the official class leaders and politicians could be seen taking charge, assuming their control of these walks and fields which had belonged only to us in the summer. 

I had the same room which Finny and I had shared during the summer, but across the hall, in the large suite where Leper Lepellier had stayed, Brinker Hadley had established his headquarters. Leper had been moved to a room lost in an old building off somewhere in the trees toward the gym.

I was going to see Brinker, but I stopped. I didn’t want to see the remains of Leper replaced by Brinker, not yet anyway. I was late for my afternoon appointment, where I was supposed to report to the Crew House, which was down by the banks of one of the two rivers, the Devon and the Naguamsett. 

When I glimpsed the Devon River, I thought of Finny. Not of the tree and pain, but of one of his favorite tricks—balancing on one foot on the prow of a canoe like a river god, his raised arms invoking the air to support him, face transfigured, body a complex set of balances and compensations, each muscle aligned in perfection with all the others to maintain this supreme fantasy of achievement, his skin glowing from immersions, his whole body hanging between river and sky as though he had transcended gravity and might by gently pushing upward with his foot glide a little way higher and remain suspended in space, encompassing all the glory of the summer and offering it to the sky. Then, the line of his body would break, the soaring arms collapse, out would shoot an uncontrollable leg, and Phineas would tumble into the water, roaring with rage.

He hated me, and my very existence, but I still stopped in the middle of my journey to remember him like that. Inexplicably, I felt refreshed, and went on to the Crew House beside the tidewater river. 

At the Crew House, Quackenbush spotted me the instant I came in. He was the crew manager, and there was something wrong about him. I didn’t know exactly what it was, but I knew that he was not liked at Devon. 

“Late, Forrester,” he said in his already-matured voice. He was a firmly masculine type; perhaps he was disliked only because he had matured before the rest of us.

“Yes, sorry, I got held up.”

“The crew waits for no man. I’ve got to have some real help around here. This crew is going to win the New England scholastics, or my name isn’t Cliff Quackenbush.” We worked in silence for a while before he began to question me again. “You’re a senior aren’t you?”

He knew that I was a senior. “Yeah.”

“Starting a little late to manage teams aren’t you?”

"Well, it doesn’t matter."

"Yes it matters."

"I don’t think it does."

“Who do you think you are anyway, Forrester.”

It was then that I realized that he was so ignorant, that he knew nothing of the loss I was fighting to endure, nothing of the battles I fought against myself each day. And so I blurted out, "You, Quackenbush, don’t know anything about who I am. Or anything else."

I hit him hard across the face. The two of us wrestled, and unlike the playful fights I had with Finny in the summer, this was real. We ended up in the river, in the dirty Naguamsett. Dripping wet, I straggled back toward the dormitory. 

Mr. Ludsbury stopped me, and gave me some speech about the fact that the rules would now be enforced, unlike the Summer Session, when we were free. He ended by telling me that there was a long-distance call for me, and that I could go into his study to receive it. 

I reached his study and found that the operator’s number was not from my hometown, but one which seemed to interrupt the beating of my heart. I tried to calm down, but excitement and nervousness crept into my brain. 

I called this operator, and listened in wonder while she went through her routine as though this were just any long-distance call, and then her voice left the line and it was preempted, and charged, by the voice of Phineas. “Happy first day of the new academic year!"

"Thanks, thanks a lot, it’s a—you sound—I’m glad to hear your—" I sputtered, shocked that he wasn’t screaming at me because of our last conversation. 

"Stop stuttering, I’m paying for this. Who’re you rooming with?"

"Nobody. They didn’t put anyone else in the room."

"Saving my place for me! Good old Devon. But anyway, you wouldn’t have let them put anyone else in there, would you?" Friendliness, simple outgoing affection, that was all I could hear in his voice.

"No, of course not."

"I didn’t think you would. Roommates are roommates. Even if they do have an occasional fight.”

“Is that what that was.”

“Well, yes. Naturally, you don’t make me sick. I don’t care that you’re gay. I don’t know why I’d said that.”

“Naturally.” We talked about my job as the assistant crew manager, even though I was no longer in that position. Suddenly, the conversation changed with Finny’s thoughts. 

"What do you want to manage crew for? What’s that got to do with sports?"

"I’m too busy for sports," I said. 

I thought the issue was settled but he said, "Listen, if I can’t play sports, you’re going to play them for me." 

I lost part of myself to him then as I agreed, and a soaring sense of freedom revealed that this must have been my purpose: to become a part of Phineas. Phineas, the flawless boy I loved. 

He must have loved me, in some way, if he was so willing to allow me to become a part of him, I told myself. I needed to believe that he cared for me, even if it was not the way I cared for him. 

I needed something to believe, and this was the perfect thing to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know not much happened in this chapter, and I'm hoping it picks up soon, but I'm honestly just writing as I go through the book again and I don't really remember when everything happened. Trying to write gay romance into a novel about self-discovery and reflection is easier than I thought, but it still has to fit with the canon storyline.  
> I'll post the rest of the chapters over the next two days.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't end up doing much more! My teacher graded it (I got 100% in case you cared lol) so I just stopped working on it. Other stuff came up, I guess. Anyway, here's chapter 7!

Brinker Hadley came across to see me late that afternoon. I’d taken a shower and was wearing a pair of chocolate brown slacks, a pair which Phineas had been particularly critical of when he wasn’t wearing them, and a blue flannel shirt. With nothing to do until my French class at five o’clock, I began turning over in my mind this question of sports.

But Brinker came in. Brinker looked the standard preparatory school article in his gray gabardine suit with square, hand-sewn-looking jacket pockets, a conservative necktie, and dark brown cordovan shoes. His face was all straight lines—eyebrows, mouth, nose, every-thing—and he carried his six feet of height straight as well. He looked athletic, though he wasn’t. 

There was nothing idiosyncratic about Brinker unless you saw him from behind; I did as he turned to close the door after him. The flaps of his gabardine jacket parted slightly over his healthy rump, and it is that, without any sense of derision at all, that I recall as Brinker’s salient characteristic, those healthy, determined, not over-exaggerated but definite and substantial buttocks.

The observation made me blush. I immediately expelled the thoughts from my mind as he sank down on my cot, leaning on his elbow in a relaxed, at-home way.

"Here you are in your solitary splendor," he began after greeting me. "I can see you have real influence around here. This big room all to yourself. I wish I knew how to manage things like you." 

I was going to say that while he had a roommate it was frightened Brownie Perkins, who would never impinge on Brinker’s comfort in any way, and that they had two rooms, the front one with a fireplace. Not that I grudged him any of this. I liked Brinker in spite of his Winter Session efficiency; almost everyone liked Brinker.

Not romantically, of course. The homo thoughts were unique to me, and I didn’t feel them towards Brinker. 

"I’ll bet you knew all the time Finny wouldn’t be back this fall. That’s why you picked him for a roommate, right?" he continued. 

"What?" I pulled quickly around in my chair, away from the desk, and faced him. "No, of course not. How could I know a thing like that in advance?"

Brinker glanced swiftly at me. "You fixed it," he smiled widely. "You knew all the time. I’ll bet it was all your doing."

"Don’t be nutty, Brinker."

"Ah-h-h. The truth hurts, eh?" 

"Sure," I gave a short laugh, "sure." I was suddenly desperate to change the subject. “I feel like a smoke, don’t you? Let’s go down to the Butt Room.” The Butt Room was something like a dungeon. It was in the basement, or the bowels, of the dormitory. There were about ten smokers already there. 

In the Butt Room we looked, very strongly, like criminals, unlike the innocent extroverts we appeared to be on the playing fields. The school’s policy, in order to discourage smoking, was to make these rooms as depressing as possible. The windows near the ceiling were small and dirty, the old leather furniture spilled its innards, the tables were mutilated, the walls ash-colored, the floor concrete. A radio with a faulty connection played loud and rasping for a while, then suddenly quiet and insinuating.

Brinker pushed me into the room ahead of him. “Here’s your prisoner. I’m turning him over to the proper authorities.” 

A slumped figure near the radio roused himself to say, “What’s the charge?”

“Doing away with his roommate so he could have a whole room to himself. Rankest treachery.”

“Shut up! I swear to God you ride a joke longer than anybody I know.” I yelled. A tense silence followed my outburst. 

"So, you killed him, did you?" A boy uncoiled tensely from the couch.

"Well," Brinker qualified judiciously, "not actually killed. Finny’s hanging between life and death at home, in the arms of his grief-stricken old mother." 

I groaned inwardly. I didn’t want the truth to get out—which truth, I was not sure—so I hastily made up some lie about poisoning my friend. 

“Liar. Trying to weasel out of it with a false confession, eh?" 

For some reason, I laughed at that. 

"We know the scene of the crime," Brinker went on, "high in that ... that funereal tree by the river. There wasn’t any poison, nothing as subtle as that."

"Oh, you know about the tree," I tried to let my face fall guiltily, but it felt instead as though it were being dragged downward. "Yes, huh, yes there was a small, a little contretemps at the tree."

“Tell us everything,” a younger boy at the table said huskily. There was an unsettling current in his voice, a genuinely conspiratorial note, as though he believed literally everything that had been said. His attitude seemed to me almost obscene, the attitude of someone who discovers a sexual secret of yours and promises not to tell a soul if you will describe it in detail to him.

What if he had discovered my secret somehow! 

The idea terrified me, and so I made up outrageous lies that were the furthest thing from the truth. “Well, first I stole all his money. Then I found that he cheated on his entrance tests to Devon and I blackmailed his parents about that, then I made love to his sister in Mr. Ludsbury’s study, then I…” I didn’t know how to continue, so I spun to the younger boy and demanded that he tell me what happened next. 

"Then you just pushed him off, I’ll bet." he tried. 

"Lousy bet. You lose.” I told him, before claiming I had to study French, turning and leaving. Not long afterward, early even for New Hampshire, snow came. It came theatrically, late one afternoon; I looked up from my desk and saw that suddenly there were big flakes twirling down into the quadrangle, settling on the carefully pruned shrubbery bordering the crosswalks, the three elms still holding many of their leaves, the still-green lawns. They gathered there thicker by the minute, like noiseless invaders conquering because they took possession so gently. I watched them whirl past my window—don’t take this seriously, the playful way they fell seemed to imply, this little show, this harmless trick.

It seemed to be true. The school was thinly blanketed that night, but the next morning, a bright, almost balmy day, every flake disappeared. The following weekend, however, it snowed again, then two days later much harder, and by the end of that week the ground had been clamped under snow for the winter.

The heavy snow paralyzed the railroad yards of one of the large towns south of us on the Boston and Maine line. At chapel the day following the heaviest snowfall, two hundred volunteers were solicited to spend the day shoveling them out, as part of the Emergency Usefulness policy adopted by the faculty that fall. Again we would be paid. So we all volunteered, Brinker and I and Chet Douglass and even, I noticed, Quackenbush.

But not Leper. He had the habit of drawing during chapel, so he had probably not heard the announcement. The train to take us south to the work did not arrive until after lunch, and on my way to the station, taking a shortcut through a meadow not far from the river, I met him. 

I had hardly seen him during the fall, and I barely recognized him. “What’re you doing?” I asked him. 

“Touring. I’m looking for a beaver dam. It used to be up the Devon a ways, in a little stream that flows into the Devon. It’s interesting to see the way beavers adapt to the winter. Have you ever seen it?”

“No, I never have seen that. Tell me if you find it.” I said, and he nodded before pushing off towards the woods. I turned and trudged off to help shovel out New England for the war. 

The day ended at last. Gray from the beginning, its end was announced by a deepening gray, of sky, snow, faces, spirits. We piled back into the old, dispiritedly lit coaches waiting for us, slumped into the uncomfortable green seats, and no one said much until we were miles away.

When we did speak it was about aviation training programs and brothers in the service and requirements for enlistment and the futility of Devon and how we would never have war stories to tell our grandchildren. 

We were all tired at the end of that day. Walking back to the school grounds from the railroad station in the descending darkness we overtook a lone figure sliding along the snow-covered edge of the street. It was Leper.

We stopped and had a quick conversation. Brinker was impatient, and he grabbed my arm agitatedly. "I’m giving it up, I’m going to enlist. Tomorrow." he declared. I felt a thrill at his words and decided that I was going to enlist, too. There was no one to stop me but myself.

I bounced zestfully up the dormitory stairs. The warm yellow light streaming from under my own door came as a shock. The light should have been off. Instead, as though alive itself, it poured in a thin yellow slab of brightness from under the door, illuminating the dust and splinters of the hall floor. 

I grabbed the knob and swung open the door. He was seated in my chair at the desk, bending down to adjust the gross encumbrance of his leg, so that only the familiar ears set close against his head were visible, and his short-cut brown hair. He looked up with a provocative grin. 

I’ve missed him so much. Everything that had happened throughout the day faded. Phineas was back. Finny was back, and I was more in love with him than ever.


	8. Chapter 8

Of course, at first I was wary. I was afraid he’d changed his mind about my sexuality, that he had come to ruin me by telling everyone about my secret. But I quickly pushed the thoughts out of my mind. This was  _ Phineas _ . He’d never do something like that to hurt me. 

“Where did you get those clothes!" he said. His bright, indignant eyes swept from my battered gray cap, down the frayed sweater and paint-stained pants to a pair of clodhoppers. "You don’t have to advertise like that, we all know you’re the worst dressed man in the class." 

I blushed at that before defending my clothing. I pulled off the sweater, under which I was wearing a rain slicker. Phineas just studied it in wordless absorption. "I like the cut of it," he finally murmured. 

I pulled that off revealing an Army fatigue shirt my brother had given me. "Very topical," said Phineas through his teeth. After that came off there was just my undershirt, stained with sweat. He smiled at it for a while, which confused me, and then said as he heaved himself out of the chair, "There. You should have worn that all day, just that. That has real taste.” 

"Glad to hear you like it." I joked. His observations and comments were making me uneasy, as I didn’t know why he was making them, though I would have loved him to continue. 

"Not at all," he replied ambiguously, reaching for a pair of crutches which leaned against the desk. I took in the sight of this, even though I’d seen him on crutches before. And I had never seen an invalid whose skin glowed with such health, accenting the sharp clarity of his eyes, or one who used his arms and shoulders on crutches as though on parallel bars. 

I told myself to stop thinking like this. This kind of thinking is how people like me get outed. 

He went to his bed and groaned when he realized it wasn’t made up. I found some sheets and made it for him. He wasn’t a bit sensitive about being helped, not a bit like an invalid striving to seem independent. 

He was still talking when I fell asleep, and the next morning Brinker broke into our room. "Ready to sign up?" he shouted before he was through the door. "You ready to en—Phineas!" 

“Ready to sign up for what?” he asked. 

"He wants to know if I’ll sign up with him," I said, "enlist." 

"Enlist!" cried Finny. His large and clear eyes turned with an odd expression on me. I had never seen such a look in them before. After looking at me closely he said, "You’re going to enlist?"

“Well, no. It was just something Brinker said yesterday, but I won't go.” There was a tense silence before Finny hobbled over to the dresser and took up his soap dish. "I’m first in the shower," he said. 

I could hardly believe it, but it was too plainly printed in the closed expression of his face to mistake, too discernible beneath the even tone of his voice: Phineas was shocked at the idea of my leaving. In some way he needed me. He needed me, even though I had told him. But there was no mistaking the shield of remoteness in his face and voice. He wanted me around. 

He hobbled out of the room, and I watched him go. I didn’t know why he had chosen me, why it was only to me that he could show the most humbling sides of his handicap. I didn’t care. 

“I like the winter,” Finny said later that morning, as we were walking back to our dormitory. I glanced down. Wooden plank walks had been placed on many of the school paths for better footing, but there were icy patches everywhere on them. A crutch misplaced and he could be thrown down upon the frozen wooden planking, or into the ice-encrusted snow.

“Well, it doesn’t like you.” 

"The winter loves me," he retorted, and then, disliking the whimsical sound of that, added, "I mean as much as you can say a season can love. What I mean is, I love winter, and when you really love something, then it loves you back, in whatever way it has to love." He glanced sideways at me at the last part, but I didn’t meet his eyes. 

We went together to the gym, skipping our first classes. We sat on the bleachers and talked for a while before I mentioned the war. 

“Do you really think that the United States of America is in a state of war with Nazi Germany and Imperial Japan? Don’t be a sap," he gazed with cool self-possession at me, "there isn’t any war.” 

“What?”

“Did you ever hear of the ‘Roaring Twenties’?" I nodded very slowly and cautiously. "When they all drank bathtub gin and everybody who was young did just what they wanted?" 

"Yes." 

"Well what happened was that they didn’t like that, the preachers and the old ladies and all the stuffed shirts. So then they tried Prohibition and everybody just got drunker, so then they really got desperate and arranged the Depression. That kept the people who were young in the thirties in their places. But they couldn’t use that trick forever, so for us in the forties they’ve cooked up this war fake." 

"Who are ‘they,’ anyway?" 

"The fat old men who don’t want us crowding them out of their jobs. They’ve made it all up. There isn’t any real food shortage, for instance. The men have all the best steaks delivered to their clubs now. You’ve noticed how they’ve been getting fatter lately, haven’t you?” I didn’t respond. I didn’t need to. Instead, I stared at his cast before responding. 

“Phineas, this is all pretty amusing and everything, but I hope you don’t play this game too much with yourself. You might start to believe it and then I’d have to make a reservation for you at the Funny Farm.” 

"In a way," deep in argument, his handsome eyes never wavered from mine, "the whole world is on a Funny Farm now. But it’s only the fat old men who get the joke." 

"And you." 

"Yes, and me." 

"What makes you so special? Why should you get it and all the rest of us be in the dark?" 

The momentum of the argument abruptly broke from his control. His face froze. "Because I’ve suffered," he burst out. We drew back in amazement from this. He turned his flushed face away from me, and I stood up and walked slowly to the exercise bar. 

I sprang up, grabbed it, and then, in a fumbling and perhaps grotesque offering to Phineas, I chinned myself. I couldn’t think of anything else, not the right words, not the right gesture. I did what I could think of. "Do thirty of them," he mumbled in a bored voice.

When I did, the moment was past. Phineas I know had been even more startled than I to discover this bitterness in himself. Neither of us ever mentioned it again, and neither of us ever forgot that it was there.

He sat down and studied his hands. "Did I ever tell you," he began in a husky tone, "that I used to be aiming for the Olympics?" He wouldn’t have mentioned it except that after what he had said he had to say something very personal, something deeply held. To do otherwise, to begin joking, would have been a hypocritical denial of what had happened, and Phineas was not capable of that. 

“No, you never told me that.” I mumbled, still hanging from the bar. 

"Well I was. And now I’m not sure, not a hundred percent sure I’ll be completely, you know, in shape by 1944. So I’m going to coach you for them instead." 

"But there isn’t going to be any Olympics in ’44. That’s only a couple of years away. The war—"

"Leave your fantasy life out of this. We’re grooming you for the Olympics, pal, in 1944.” There was no harm in taking aim, even if the target was a dream, so I agreed. 

I was too occupied to think about the war. In addition to my own work, I was dividing my time between tutoring Finny in studies and being tutored by him in sports. Since so much of learning anything depends on the atmosphere in which it is taught, Finny and I, to our joint double amazement, began to make flashing progress where we had been bumblers before.

Mornings we got up at six to run. I dressed in a gym sweat suit with a towel tucked around my throat, and Finny in pajamas, ski boots and his sheep-lined coat. A morning shortly before Christmas vacation brought my reward. I was to run the course Finny had laid out, four times around an oval walk which circled the Headmaster’s home, a large rambling, doubtfully Colonial white mansion. 

After making two circuits of the walk every trace of energy was as usual completely used up, and as I drove myself on all my scattered aches found their usual way to a profound seat of pain in my side. My lungs as usual were fed up with all this work, and from now on would only go rackingly through the motions. My knees were boneless again, ready any minute to let my lower legs telescope up into the thighs. My head felt as though different sections of the cranium were grinding into each other.

Then, for no reason at all, I felt magnificent. It was as though my body until that instant had simply been lazy, as though the aches and exhaustion were all imagined, created from nothing in order to keep me from truly exerting myself. Buoyed up, I forgot my usual feeling of routine self-pity when working out, I lost myself, oppressed mind along with aching body; all entanglements were shed, I broke into the clear. 

After the fourth circuit, like sitting in a chair, I pulled up in front of Phineas. We joked back and forth for a moment, but despite the gibes, he was rather impersonal toward me. He seemed older that morning, and leaning quietly against that great tree wrapped in his heavy coat, he seemed smaller too. Or perhaps it was only that I, inside the same body, had felt myself all at once grown bigger. I found myself wishing that he were more open with me, the way he used to be. 

We proceeded slowly back to the dormitory. On the steps going in, we met Mr. Ludsbury coming out. He asked us what we were up to, working out every day, and Finny told him about his plan to train me for the Olympics, which Mr. Ludsbury chuckled at before continuing on his way. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, this one is like SUPER SHORT and I'm sorry about that, but like four pages were dedicated to the alcohol brawl in the original and I didn't want that in here so I just cut it out. Hope you like the chapter

This was my first but not my last lapse into Finny’s vision of peace. For hours, and sometimes for days, I fell without realizing it into the private explanation of the world. Not that I ever believed that the whole production of World War II was a trick of the eye manipulated by a bunch of calculating fat old men, appealing though this idea was. What deceived me was my own happiness; for peace is indivisible, and the surrounding world confusion found no reflection inside me. So I ceased to have any real sense of it. 

This was not shaken even by the enlistment of Leper Lepellier. In fact that made the war seem more unreal than ever. No real war could draw Leper voluntarily away from his snails and beaver dams. His enlistment seemed just another of Leper’s vagaries. 

For a few days the war was more unimaginable than ever. We didn’t mention it and we didn’t mention Leper, until at last Brinker found a workable point of view. One day in the Butt Room he read aloud a rumor in a newspaper about an attempt on Hitler’s life. He lowered the paper, gazed in a visionary way in front of him, and then remarked, "That was Leper, of course." So of course from then on every time we heard of the war, there was Leper, at the forefront of it all.

Finny was the only one who didn’t take part in it, so he stopped going to the Butt Room and stopped me from going as well. He drew me increasingly away from the Butt Room crowd, away from Brinker and Chet and all other friends, into a world inhabited by just himself and me, where there was no war at all, just Phineas and me alone among all the people of the world, training for the Olympics of 1944.

Saturdays are terrible in a boys’ school, especially in the winter, as there is nothing to do. Unsurprisingly, Finny failed to see what was so depressing. “We’d better organize the Winter Carnival." he said.

We were sitting in our room, on either side of the single large window framing a square of featureless gray sky. I could have stayed there all day with him. 

“What Winter Carnival?”

“The Winter Carnival. The Devon Winter Carnival."

"There isn’t any Devon Winter Carnival.”

"There is now.” he said, ending the debate and beginning to plan what we would do, where we’d do it, and how we’d do it. We planned all week, getting other boys involved. Word got out that it was against the rules, and so many boys thought it a good idea. 

The Saturday was a battleship gray. Entirely out of place in this snowscape, like a dowager in a saloon, there was a heavy circular classroom table to display the prizes. Phineas sat behind the table in a heavily carved black walnut chair; the arms ended in two lions’ heads, and the legs ended in paws gripping wheels now sunk in the snow. He was cataloging the prizes, and though he was busy he looked incredibly regal to me. 

There was a brief fight, but the day went mostly smoothly. It was this liberation we had torn from the gray encroachments of 1943, the escape we had concocted, this afternoon of momentary, illusory, special and separate peace.

Until Brownie Perkins came to join us from the dormitory, holding a telegram for me. Finny took it, declaring that it was from the Olympics before reading it. And it was this which drained away as I watched Finny’s face pass through all the gradations between uproariousness and shock. 

I took the telegram from Phineas, facing in advance whatever the destruction was. That was what I learned to do that winter. 

I NEED HELP. I AM AT THE CHRISTMAS LOCATION. MY SAFETY DEPENDS ON YOU COMING AT ONCE. (signed) YOUR BEST FRIEND, ELWIN LEPER LEPELLIER. 

I exchanged glances with Finny, who seemed a little hurt, before turning and rushing up to the dormitories. The expression on Finny’s face stung, and I thought I knew exactly why—the telegram had been signed as “your best friend”, a title Finny must have assumed was purely his own. Which it is, but I suppose Leper had never known that. 

Pushing thoughts of Finny out of my mind, I went to help Leper. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another super short chapter, sorry about that. Most of this chapter was Leper talking about the army, but I did some research and Section Eights were also given to homosexuals in the army, so I decided to use that instead and cut out the rest of Gene's visit.

The Lepellier house was not far out of town, I was told. There was no taxi, I was also told, and there was no one, I did not need to be told, who would offer to drive me out there. This was Vermont. 

The sun was the blessing of the morning, the one celebrating element, an aesthete with no purpose except to shed radiance. Everything else was sharp and hard, but this Grecian sun evoked joy from every angularity and blurred with brightness the stiff face of the countryside. As I walked briskly out the road the wind knifed at my face, but this sun caressed the back of my neck.

After a mile or so I found a house that must have been Leper’s. Although I was walking straight toward his front door he beckoned me on several times, and he never took his eyes from me, as though it was they which held me to my course.

He led me to the dining room. “Come in here," he said, "I spend most of my time in here."

“What for? It’s not very comfortable.”

“Well, it’s a useful room."

"Yes, I guess it’s useful, all right."

We talked absently for a while before Leper’s mother suggested that we go for a walk after lunch. 

“I got a discharge from the army. A Section Eight discharge.” he said as we wandered through the countryside. This confused me, because Leper seemed perfectly sane. "A Section Eight discharge is for the nuts in the service, the psychos, the Funny Farm candidates,” he continued, “They give you a Section Eight discharge, like a dishonorable discharge only worse. You can’t get a job after that. Everybody wants to see your discharge, and when they see a Section Eight they look at you kind of funny—the kind of expression you’ve got on your face, like you were looking at someone with their nose blown off but don’t want them to know you’re disgusted—they look at you that way and then they say, ‘Well, there doesn’t seem to be an opening here at present.’ You’re screwed for life, that’s what a Section Eight discharge means."

“Well you don’t seem crazy.” I said. 

“No, I’m not. I’m not crazy. But they give Section Eights to people like us, too.” he gestured vaguely at the space between the two of us. 

“What do you mean ‘people like us’.”

“You know, the homos. The psychos, the nuts, and the gays.”

“What do you mean!” I shouted, shocked that he had discovered my secret somehow. 

“It wasn’t hard to figure out. You practically only did anything for Finny, it was so clear how in love with him you are. I’m surprised no one else figured it out too.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. They definitely gave you a Section Eight for being crazy!”

“No, no. It’s because I’m a homo, just like you. They found out when they saw me kissing another man. You on the other hand, nobody knows about you.” he laughed. I tried to back up, but Leper grabbed my arm and pulled me into him, forcing his lips onto mine. 

I shoved him away from me. “What the hell!” I screamed. I didn’t know what to do, so I just left him laughing in the snow as I broke into a run, running as far away from him as I could. 

I left Leper telling his stories into the wind. He might tell it forever, I didn’t care. I didn’t want to hear any more of it. I had already heard too much. What did he mean by telling me a story like that! I didn’t want to hear any more of it. Not now or ever. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! This chapter is pretty long, at least compared to the previous few. Hope you enjoy.

I wanted to see Phineas, and Phineas only. With him there was no conflict except between athletes, and right now I needed that, needed  _ him _ . 

I found him in the middle of a snowball fight, which I half heartedly joined to save face. Afterwards, the two of us trudged up to the dormitory. As soon as I closed the door, I collapsed onto my bed, near tears. 

“What’s the matter!” Finny cried, making his way over to me. I burst into awkwards sobs at that, and Finny delicately put his arms around me. I leaned into him before recounting the day’s events in between hiccups. 

Not knowing how to comfort me, Finny patted my arm gently and listened. When I got to the part about the kiss, Finny got uncomfortable and moved away from me slightly. I pretended not to notice. Once I’d finished, we sat in silence, too much to say and not enough words to say it. 

“I’m sorry,” Finny finally whispered. I frowned up at him. 

“For what?”

“For letting that happen to you.” We sat quietly for a little while longer before Finny stood up and went over to his bed. 

After dinner, Brinker paid us a visit. "How’s Leper?" he asked. I exchanged glances with Finny and he nodded slightly. 

"Leper? Why he’s—he’s on leave." But my resentment against having to mislead people seemed to be constantly growing stronger. "As a matter of fact Leper is ‘Absent Without Leave,’ he just took off by himself." 

Brinker looked surprised. I tried not to give away everything that had happened, but Brinker suggested that Leper had gone crazy. Not wanting to explain that he was actually gay, I agreed and continued on the conversation about nothing.

Throughout the next few weeks, there were few boys left at Devon. So many had enlisted, but I stayed, as did Brinker and Finny. One day, I was doing Finny’s Latin homework and joked about Caesar never having existed, just as Finny would make outlandish theories all day. 

Finny got up from the cot, picking up his cane as an afterthought. He looked oddly at me, his face set to burst out laughing I thought. "Naturally I don’t believe books and I don’t believe teachers," he came across a few paces, "but I do believe—it’s important after all for me to believe you. Christ, I’ve got to believe you, at least. I know you better than anybody." 

I waited without saying anything. Where was he going with this? "And you told me about Leper. When I heard that about Leper, then I knew that the war was real, this war and all the wars.

"To tell you the truth, I wasn’t too completely sure about you, when you told me how Leper was. Of course I believed you," he added hurriedly, "but you’re the nervous type, you know, and I thought maybe your imagination got a little inflamed up there in Vermont. I thought he might not be quite as mixed up as you made out." Finny’s face tried to prepare me for what came next. 

"Then I saw him myself." I turned incredulously. 

"You saw Leper?" 

"I saw him here this morning, after chapel. He was—well, there’s nothing inflamed about my imagination and I saw Leper hiding in the shrubbery next to the chapel. I slipped out the side door the way I always do—to miss the rush—and I saw Leper and he must have seen me. He didn’t say a thing." 

My eyes involuntarily met Finny’s. He walked slowly over to me. 

“And I wanted to tell you something else.” he whispered. 

“Of course.”

“I think...I think I’m in love with you, too.”

Neither of us knew what to do or say after that, and so we went to bed. Brinker and three cohorts, however, came with much commotion into our room at 10:05 p.m. that night. 

"We’re taking you out," he said flatly. 

“It’s after hours,” I replied. 

“Where?” Finny asked at the same time, interested. I raised my eyebrows at him, but he didn’t notice.

"You’ll see. Get them." His friends half-lifted us half-roughly, and we were hustled down the stairs. Finny stumbled a few times, and he ended up grabbing my hand for support. I smiled, in spite of the fact that we were being herded somewhere unknown. 

They steered us towards the First Building at Devon, still called the First Building despite the fact that it had been burned down and rebuilt several times over the years. We sat down on the benches that lined the room as Brinker made a big show over locking the door. 

"What is all this?" I whispered to Finny.

"I don’t know," he answered softly, tightening his grip on my hand. 

“We are going to figure out what happened the day Finny fell—if, indeed, he really did fall.” Brinker announced. 

“Oh, well there’s nothing to figure out! I simply lost my balance and fell.” Finny laughed. 

"You had better balance than anyone in the school."

"Thanks a lot."

"I didn’t say it for a compliment."

"Well then, no thanks."

"Have you ever thought that you didn’t just fall out of that tree?" 

Finny turned to me, tilting his head. I knew he knew what had truly happened, because I’d told him. But he was trying to protect me! I laced my fingers through his and he looked back at Brinker. 

“No, there was no-one else in that tree. I’m quite certain it was just me.” he lied. 

A new voice from the room piped up, "I thought somebody told me that Gene Forrester was—"

"Finny was there," Brinker interrupted commandingly, "he knows better than anyone."

"You were there too, weren’t you, Gene?" this new voice from the platform continued.

"Yes," I said with interest, "yes, I was there too."

"Were you—near the tree?"

Finny turned toward me. "You were down at the bottom, weren’t you." he said, phrasing it like a question but making it clear it was anything but.

"Down at the bottom, yes." I agreed, staring down at my other hand. 

"Who else was there?" said Brinker quietly. "Leper Lepellier was there, wasn’t he?" 

"Yes," someone replied, "Leper was there." Brinker sent two boys to go get Leper, and I was about to panic. I looked to Phineas and saw that he had gone pale as well. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, there’s nothing else to tell!” I said. But the boys were gone, and we all sat in a terse silence as we waited for them to return. When they did, Leper was with them. 

“Yes? What can I do for you?” he asked in a clear voice that resonated through the room. 

“We are investigating what happened the day Phineas fell from the tree. You were standing next to the river bank, watching him climb it?" Brinker said to him. 

"Sure. Right there by the trunk of the tree. I was looking up. It was almost sunset, and I remember the way the sun was shining in my eyes."

"So you couldn’t . . ." I began before I could stop myself. Leper turned to me, a malicious glint flashing through his eyes. 

“Well, I just shaded my eyes a little, and then I could see. I could see both of them clearly enough because the sun was blazing all around them," a certain singsong sincerity was developing in his voice, as though he were enjoying toying with our emotions, "and the rays of the sun were shooting past them, millions of rays shooting past them like—like golden machine-gun fire." He paused to let us consider the profoundly revealing exactness of this phrase. "That’s what it was like, if you want to know. The two of them looked as black as—as black as death standing up there with this fire burning all around them. One was a little farther out on the limb, and one was holding onto the tree.”

“Then what happened?"

"Then they both moved."

"How did they move?"

"They moved," now Leper was smiling, a charming and slightly arch smile, a hint of malice still lighting up his eyes, "they moved like an engine.” I felt my heart drop. “In this engine first one piston sinks, and then the next one sinks. The one holding on to the trunk sank for a second, up and down like a piston, and then the other one sank and fell."

Someone on the platform exclaimed, "The one who moved first shook the other one’s balance!"

“Yes, I suppose so.” Leper said, grinning evilly at me. I felt my heart stop for a moment. Before anyone could react, Finny stood up. 

“I don’t care. It doesn’t matter.” he said, pulling me with him. We marched towards the stairs, hands still linked, and I could feel the glares of every other boy in the room. As soon as we were out of sight, they erupted into whispers. 

Finny and I walked towards our dormitory and collapsed onto my bed. We sat in silence for a while before I spoke. 

“Thank you for doing that for me,” I whispered. 

“Well, I had to save my own neck too,” he joked in response. We were sitting up now, facing each other but our eyes not meeting. I could feel his eyes trained on my head, but I stared into my lap. 

“From what exactly?”

“If they’d found out you shook the branch because you love me, it would only be a matter of time before they found out the feeling was mutual.” 

“Then I’m glad the feeling is mutual, it means we’ll both be okay throughout this entire ordeal.”

I looked up and our eyes connected. All sense of humor faded. 

“The feeling is mutual…” Finny whispered slowly. I echoed his words again, and we both leaned forward at the same time. 

And just as our lips met, the door burst open. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahaha sorry for the cliffhanger!! That was a lot of fun to write, surprisingly. No but seriously, these last few chapters will be so much fun ;)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about that cliffhanger! This is the last chapter, and I completely went against everything from the book. There aren't any direct quotes from the novel, but I'm hoping you'll enjoy it anyway.  
> Quick trigger warning: there is a fight, nothing too graphic but just thought I'd warn you. Also some homophobia, but it is only a few paragraphs.  
> Love you guys :) enjoy the finale

“See! See, I told you! I told you they were both f*gs!” I heard Leper whisper-yell as Finny and I pulled apart faster than lightning. Neither of us said anything, too shocked and embarrassed to form any response. I looked up, just long enough to see the disgust clearly displayed on Brinker’s face. 

“Yes, yes Leper you were right. Good job.” he said absently to the space behind him. He then turned to us, rage twisting his face. “What the hell! What are you two  _ f*gs _ still doing here! You disgust me! You f*****g homos! What the hell! Phineas I could suspect, it was only a matter of time before he came out as a  _ fairy _ , no wonder he wore pink shirts! But Gene! What the f*****g hell! I thought you were  _ normal _ !” he screamed. I wanted to shrink away from him, wanted to hold Finny’s hand and disappear back to the beach. But that wasn’t going to happen. 

Brinker continued to scream at us, his voice rising until several other boys had woken up to see what was going on. There was space around Brinker, but everyone was packed together to catch a glimpse of the commotion. 

Finally, after a few minutes of screaming, Brinker seemed to calm down. I thought he was going to leave, but I was wrong. In fact, he had not calmed down—he had simply run out of words to say—temporarily. So he turned physical. He rushed towards us and threw a punch at Finny, who was immediately knocked down. 

“ _ NO! _ ” I screamed, standing and launching myself at Brinker. I knocked him down and we wrestled on the floor until he had pinned me down, punching my face over and over again and screaming profanities at me. 

The worst part was that I felt like I deserved it. 

It seemed to go on for an eternity, until Phil Latham, the wrestling coach, and Dr. Stanpole broke through the masses of students to pull him off me. Phil Latham dragged Brinker away, using his strength to keep him from coming back to us. He continued to scream at us as Dr. Stanpole made sure that Finny and I were alright. 

The crowd outside our room slowly dwindled away until it was just the three of us left inside. Dr. Stanpole shut the door and I immediately dissolved into sobs. The doctor awkwardly tried to comfort me, patting my shoulder as I cried into Finny’s chest. 

“Would you like to tell me what happened?” he asked when I’d stopped crying. I wanted to start bawling again, but I looked at Finny, who nodded, so I turned to the doctor and nodded too. 

“Brinker...he walked into our room just then. And we, we were—” I broke off in tears. Finny hugged me and continued. 

“We’re both...we’re both gay. He walked in on the two of us kissing.” he explained. Seeing the look of shock and scandal on the doctor’s face, he hastily amended, “But it was the first time, I swear!” 

None of us said anything for a while. Eventually, Dr. Stanpole nodded slightly. 

“Okay. Make sure it doesn’t happen again. Gene, come in later so I can check up the injuries on your face.” he said shortly before standing and leaving the room. After a moment, I pulled away from Finny. 

“I’m sorry,” I said. 

“Don’t be. Besides,” he replied, lifting my chin up so that our eyes were connected, “the feeling is mutual.” 

So our lips met, and as far as I was concerned that was the only first kiss that ever mattered. 

Throughout the remainder of the school year, word spread fast that we were together. Most people no longer spoke to either of us, but I didn’t mind. Only Chet Douglass and Leper still treated us the same. Leper, however, quickly learned that we did not appreciate his act of indifference, as the fact that he had ratted us out was still fresh in our minds. 

We both graduated, but neither of us joined the army. Finny could not, as the damage done to his leg was irreversible, and I would not be admitted due to my sexuality. But none of this mattered to us. None of this mattered, because we were no longer afraid of who we were. 

…

Fifteen years later, I stood in the shade of the same tree that had changed both Finny’s and my lives. Finny was my husband now, not that we were legally married. I was only still in touch with Chet Douglass, who had married Hazel Brewster (the town belle from when we were still students). 

Fifteen years later, I stood spinning my wedding ring and knowing that I was now completely sure of exactly who I was. 


	13. Afternote

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, this isn't a chapter but it was in the [online] version of the book I read, written as like an afternote or something?? Idk but I just wanted to put it in here. It is not an extension of the fic, it is just a summary of Knowles' thoughts on the gayness of the canon novel he wrote. The bolded stuff is just stuff I found interesting.   
> Hope you enjoy.

There is the context and subtext within Gene and Phineas’s friendship.

The context being: It is 1942, and the boys are seeing their relationship through the lens of their time, not ours.

The subtext being: There is clearly love and desire between Gene and Phineas—but what kind?

In an interview with the Sun-Sentinel in 1987, John Knowles had this to say: “Freud said any strong relationship between two men contains a homoerotic element. If so in this case, both characters are totally unaware of it. **It would have changed everything, it wouldn’t have been the same story.** In that time and place, **my characters would have behaved totally differently**. . . . If there had been homoeroticism between Phineas and Gene, I would have put it in the book, I assure you. It simply wasn’t there.”

This is what the book means to mean. And I completely accept that if there’s any gay desire, neither Phineas nor Gene is consciously aware of it. But when it comes to what the story means to me, so much of what Knowles writes gets to the heart of what it would have been like to be gay at that time—and what it can still be like to be gay now.

I’m not just talking about the pink shirt. (“I wonder what would happen if I looked like a fairy to everyone,” Phineas says, adding, “Well, in case suitors begin clamoring at the door, you can tell them I’m wearing this as an emblem.” And when Gene wears it: “It seemed, standing there in Finny’s triumphant shirt, that I would never stumble through the confusions of my own character again.”)

So much of what Knowles writes about war, or youth, or friendship also resonates with the love that, to borrow the phrase, so often dared not speak its name. Many gay men, years later, look back and see both their fear and their willful escape from it. “If you broke the rules, then they broke you”—we can relate. Or: “I was used to feeling something deadly in things that attracted me; there was always something deadly lurking in anything I wanted, anything I loved.”

And, of course, the beautiful, haunting line at the end of Gene and Phineas’s day at the beach together: “Perhaps I was stopped by that level of feeling, deeper than thought, which contains the truth.” **Knowles did not write about two boys who know they are gay or have conscious gay feelings, but he certainly created a compelling resonance for boys who do.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! That was everything I had to say. I enjoyed that little endpiece. And honestly, I had so much fun writing this fic. I can only hope that y'all enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.   
> Love you guys, thanks for sticking through it =]


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